His
by Child of the Muse
Summary: He looked into her eyes for a moment before his soft cold voice reached her ears. "You speak the truth. However, I refuse to besmirch my name by laying with a taken woman, even one as devoted to me as you, Bellatrix. Although perhaps…an arrangement can be made…if you are willing to wait." "I am." "For how long?" "For as long as you deem appropriate, my lord."


**Summary: He looked into her eyes for a moment before his soft cold voice reached her ears. "You speak the truth. However, I refuse to besmirch my name by laying with a taken woman, even one as devoted to me as you, Bellatrix. Although perhaps****…an arrangement can be made…if you are willing to wait."**

**"I am."**

**"For how long?"**

**"For as long as you deem appropriate, my lord."**

**A/N: So I'm deviating from the usual Voldemort/Harry to do a Voldemort/Bellatrix, a pairing that I like 'ok'. This was written for the Quidditch Fanfiction Competition and I had to focus on a passion of my character: who is Bellatrix. And what greater passion does Bellatrix have than for Lord Voldemort himself?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I'm not J.K. Rowling, and I receive no remuneration off this narrative.**

**Optional Prompts:**

**5. (quote) "I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness a million times, but never once into it" – Jonathan Safran Foer ** **14. (word) Blind** **15. (word) Join**

Narcissa was respected because of her husband, and just like every other prestigious pureblood woman, her place was at his side. Her clothing told of her prestige, her jewelry told of her riches, her nails were always appropriately clean, and you would never find a hair out of place on her perfect blond head. Her ice blue eyes were framed by perfect brows accentuated with very light makeup and her lips were appropriately red. Her visage was never provocative, but merely lightly sensual with an appropriate flair befitting of her status. Whether in public, in front of the death eaters, or even in private, she held herself with a manor befitting of the wife of Lucius Malfoy. She was the ultimate pureblood, and all too fitting for the house of Malfoy.

Many a man envied Lucius.

But Bellatrix could not be more different from her sister. Her nails were almost always covered in blood or some type of bodily fluid from battle. She knew her hair would forever be curly and wild; it would most likely _never_ lay straight. The wild stubborn spirals framed a face always made up to be provocative, playing up the eyes rather than being a good pureblood and playing up the mouth. Her personality was as wild as her clothing, something her mother had always disapproved of.

The black leather corset tied to the equally colored silk skirt never impeded the wild dueling movements of her body, but instead gave her a swift, playful, and fierce sensuality that men everywhere had come to fear. The sleeves, one of which covered the beloved mark she wore on her left arm, were held up by strings tied to the shoulder straps of her corset and came down to mid hand with a pointed cut. She'd had this specific dress designed with swirls of melted silver sewn into the fabric, hoping it would be enough to impress the heir of Slytherin.

But to impress him was always hard. He seemed unmoved and unswayed by her feminine wiles, perhaps even amused at times when confronted with them. He cared _nothing_ for her riches…only her power. And she had made sure, when she chose to join his death eaters, that she was well versed in power. For in a world dominated by pureblood men, women must either submit or constantly fight to show their worth. Men would only respect a woman with _true_ skill.

She was proud to say that she had such skill that the dark lord had trained her himself. And unlike most of his death eaters, he was _still_ training her because she _still _continued to show promise. Even now she had not reached the end of her potential, according to him.

Also according to him, she was a very powerful witch, his best duellest amongst all his ranks second only to himself, and his third in command.

To her, he was the most powerful intelligent charismatic sorcerer who had ever lived.

He was also a murderer of thousands…a murderer of thousands that she happened to love…cherish…_adore._

But she refused to go into this blind. By doing this, she was taking a risk so big that it could get her killed. _Especially_ when he tended to kill those who asked favors of him. She would have to rely on her importance to him and so, in her own way, this went as far as even being a test of her importance. If he killed her for her impertinence, as it was likely that he would, so be it. She would die in his service, as she had already promised so long ago.

She knocked on the door lightly and he answered. "Come in…Bellatrix."

She entered the room and knelt at the entry way. It always amazed her how he always knew who was there before anyone ever opened the door. "You may rise and approach me. Tell me, why have I been graced with your presence at this hour?"

But she didn't rise. Instead, she crawled to him on hands and knees, kissing the hems of his robes, before backing away and kneeling before him. "There is something I must tell you, my lord. It is not for others to hear and it is for you and you alone."

"Rise and be seated, then." He rose from the chair he was currently working in and gracefully walked towards the couch on the right side of the room. She seated herself directly across from him on the opposite black chesterfield, never daring to look into those hauntingly beautiful scarlet eyes.

She watched as a long fingered pale hand poured a cup of brandy for them both, hers with ice, his without.

She bowed her head reverently. "Thank you, my lord."

"I give you explicit permission to look at me while you speak, Bella."

For all her viscousness and power, she was as an innocent doe caught in the gaze of an oncoming spell, the one he cast over her so many times, all with a simple phrase or perhaps a look. She nodded reverently, It wouldn't do to smile for such a serious conversation. "Thank for this honor to speak with you, my lord. I am aware of how busy you are, so I will be straight to the point."

He nodded slightly, eyes shining with greedy curiosity.

"Never before have I asked anything of you, though much was given upon merely your graces, for which I am thankful. But I wish to make one request of you. I will never request anything else again."

"Speak your request."

She took a deep breath and stared into his eyes. "I am yours…and yet I am not." His eyes narrowed but she forced herself to keep her voice steady and continue on slowly. "You have marked me given me one of the highest ranks amongst your death eaters, which is a great honor for a woman and was thought impossible. You have trained me and guided me in magical knowledge, duelling, and advanced casting, which is more than I could ever deserve to be graced with."

Here was where she was taking the risk. "You treat me different from the others. Not like I'm weak, but as though I am stronger than they are. You teach me what you tell me they will never have the foresight to understand. You allow me access to you in ways others do not have, and you call me your most loyal. Yet for all this…I am still only your servant in a few ways. I wish to be your _full_ servant, my lord. I wish to serve you in ways that no other can."

His beautiful white face could be carved from stone, those scarlet livid eyes frozen and his lips sealed shut. She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes but he gave no outward appearance of thinking anything at all. He took a small sip of brandy and folded it between the spidery hands placed in his lap, while he traced the rim of the cup with one long thin finger that she knew, only from a few occasions, was icy cold.

"I have no need of a servant, Bellatrix. I have no need of house-elves or slaves. A fully competent wizard or witch could take care of their own needs and does not need another to do this for them. Tell me Bellatrix…do you truly think I am incompetent?"

"I would never imply such a thing, my lord. You are the most intelligent man I have ever met and the most powerful. There is nothing that is a challenge for you and I know there is nothing you cannot do. I believe you do not even need the support of the death eaters to achieve your ends, but you have my unwavering support regardless."

"So tell me, if I can care for my own wellbeing, how is it that you wish to serve me?"

"In a way that would be only if you permitted it, my lord."

In that instant, their eyes met and something clicked behind his. He smiled, his lips pulling away from his teeth in a genuinely amused and rare but beautiful grin.

"You are _married_, Bellatrix."

"Yes my lord, I am. I married Rodolphus Lestrange so that I could join the death eaters, my lord. You refused to accept me without having married me off, so I married him to please you. I do not share his bed, I did not kiss him on our wedding day, I do not wear his ring, and never has he shared my body. I live in my own estate on one of the black properties, which he _cannot_ and _is not_ permitted to cross, my lord. Everything I own is completely separate from him and though I freely admit that I despise him, it is something I would admit only in your confidence, my grace. I keep my connection to him for you and you alone, because you have commanded it."

"Indeed. But I have no need of a wife."

And he was right. Everything a wife could do, he was perfectly capable of doing for himself.

"I will serve you in whatever way you deem acceptable my lord."

He placed the glass on the table and stood gracefully. He walked around the table separating them and towards her until his tall black robed frame towered over hers. He lifted up her chin, which had dropped when he stood up, to meet his eyes.

"I find myself curious as to your motives for such a request. You will tell me of them _now_."

She spoke without even thinking. "For so long I have dreamt of this, my lord, but I have never dared given credence to it. For so long I have thought of this, my lord, but I have never dared acted. I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness a million times, but never once into it. And so I have come to you, never asking for anything before, and all I ask of you is this one thing. If you think my behavior to be insulting or degrading to your lordship, than my deepest wish is for you to end my life, for I could never besmirch your name and live with myself afterward."

He looked into her eyes for a moment before his soft cold voice reached her ears. "You speak the truth. However, I refuse to besmirch my name by laying with a taken woman, even one as devoted to me as you, Bellatrix. Although perhaps…an arrangement can be made…if you are willing to wait."

"I am."

"For how long?"

"For as long as you deem appropriate, my lord."

"We shall make a testament to your true faith." He smirked. Whatever he had planned, she knew she would be ready. After all, she was his.

~00~oo~00~

He had been beaten to unconsciousness, his entrails had been turned inside out and outside in repeatedly, he'd been under the cruciatis curse for longer than the Longbottoms without breaking and she scoffed at how everyone was so impressed. Was she really the only one who knew it was because he was used to pro-longed exposure of the curse? The unintelligence of those around her was sickening…perhaps this was how her lord often felt?

_"Bellatrix…"_ His voice was a sibilant hiss in her direction and that was the only way she knew he was directing it at her. She briefly envied Potter's ability to speak in parseltongue. "Do you have anything to say before your late ex-husband Bella?"

She bowed low, smiling inside, though she showed nothing of her fierce joy. "I care nothing for him. I never have, I never will."

"Than I will give you a gift." He smiled beautifully and said the two words she had been waiting to hear directed at her 'husband' since the day she said I do: _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Rodolphus Lestrange fell in a heap on the floor. No one witnessed the tears that rolled from his eyes as he dropped. And soon, they were swallowed with the rest of his body as he became Nagini's dinner.

Bellatrix felt nothing but excitement and adoration for the beautiful immortal on the throne. Now was the time she would take her one and only chance to be his.

~00~oo~00~

Upon sharing his bed, she wasn't sure what to expect. She had fantasized about pain, she had fantasized about pleasure beyond her wildest imagination, there was so much that she had thought of that when it came to reality: she was downright shocked.

His body was as perfect as she had always imagined. (She was envious of Potter who got to watch him rise unrobed from the cauldron.)

He was very slow and methodical in the way that he touched her. But upon entering her virgin body, he had moaned and taken her for all she was worth. Of anything she had expected for their first time, it definitely wasn't this.

No, this was far more pleasing than anything she had ever experienced.

And in that moment she knew…she was not the only one who had come to bed a virgin.

But regardless, he had made her his.

~00~oo~00~

Lucius had failed in getting the prophecy for her lord. Failed completely and utterly. And even though they were _not _related by blood, she was sickened to have to see the sight of him, even in battle. She was sickened to be related to his family tree at all. She was sickened that his failure was related to her.

She found herself hoping that he would be killed when she placed a well aimed curse at her cousin Sirius, who fell through the veil.

An idea suddenly occurred to her. She may not have gotten the prophecy for her lord. But she would get him the next best thing: Potter.

"I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!" She taunted him as she ran through the halls of the ministry, leading directly to the main hall, where she lost her footing under a weak cruciates. But even in his fury and anger, the boy was pathetic. Didn't he know that anger was not enough? He had to _want _to cause pain. And her lord mimicked her thoughts as he arrived, mocking the insignificant brat.

Though he didn't have the chance to do so for long. Her lord found himself in danger as Dumbledore stepped through the floo to greet him. In an elegant arch of wand movement he threw her into the floo as Dumbledore threw Potter behind him under cover from fire

Even in the face of his own danger, Voldemort was protecting her. She was his.

~00~oo~00~

She was to oversee Dumbldore's death. She didn't _need _to go along with Draco Malfoy to oversee that the work was done. But she did so nonetheless. She watched as Severus Snape moved Draco from the line of sight, as he hesitated and his eyes filled with pain before he shot the killing curse. For that one moment she could put her suspicions and hatred aside. Her lover was safe.

She laughed as she shot the dark mark up into the sky. Yes, he was safe. And _she_…she was his.

~00~oo~00~

In the beginning of their relationship in the bedroom, he had been unpracticed and not exactly elegant, as unlearned as any virgin. But she found out something about her lord that perhaps others did not know: he learned almost inhumanly quickly. And as they went on, he was able to show her pleasure that even after a hundred years of intimacy, she was sure other men could not.

"Is it _torturous_ my Bella?"

She could only whimper in the onslaught of his magic, mixed with her lust, mixed with _his_ lust. He grinded into her with fluid practiced movements that made her eyes roll into the back of her head. She gritted her teeth and dug her nails into the mattress beneath her, squirming and thrusting upwards as she tried to get closer to that perfect long length, moaning as he successfully pulled away.

It was a dangerous dance of teasing and mating that they played. And every time, he always walked away the clear winner. It was the only time that she felt honored to be beat by a man.

She grabbed his face and pulled herself up with all her body strength, thrusting her tongue into a fiery kiss that he quickly dominated. His tongue was everywhere, tasting, teasing, picking up her scent, _drowning in her_ as he'd once put it. And as his tick flickered over her tongue in that same repetitive obsessive motion, his hips canted faster as she pressed her hips downward, taking his deeper into her body and grinding against the very part of him she needed the most.

"Agh!" She was incapable of human speech. Tch. Lovely. But if he was disgusted by her lack of inability to speak, he didn't say so. Indeed, he was adding to their moans with intermittent hisses that set her aflame.

He suddenly grabbed her altered mark, and whispered words in parseltongue as he drove pleasure snaking through every nerve of her body. An earring filled with the history of his ancestry, bitten into her bloodstream, had allowed her access to his gift of snakes. It was because of this that she was able to hear the things that he could never say aloud.

_"Mine. All mine. Completely mine. You will never leave. You will never stray. You are mine. You will love me for eternity. You will worship me as my wife. You are mine. __Mine.__ MINE!"_

She could hear the insecurity in his voice, the insecurity he tried so hard to hide from even himself. In his commands, she could hear the begged plea that he could never bring himself to say: _don't leave me._

_"I am yours and yours alone. Forever."_

With a scream and a several furious thrusts, his venomous fangs released from their sockets and he sliced through the skin of her neck like butter, pumping his poison into her neck as he thrusted himself into her body. She had always found this pleasurable and it was something that he had been training her to be immune to for months now.

As the rapid staccato of his thrusting slowed and ended, he pulled his fangs from her neck and looked into her eyes as she smiled into his.

~00~oo~00~

She was not allowed at the battle of the Potters, as she later called it, as much as this irked her. Her lord had commanded her to stay and prepare for his return. She did not understand why should couldn't be at his side.

She drew a hot bath, using only the most expensive of salts and oils that were sure to lubricate his cold dry sensitive skin and swirled them around, keeping the water just the right temperature. She knew too far in other direction would freeze or burn him. He didn't feel the elements as others did.

When he saw what she had prepared for him, he undid his robe silently and they climbed in together. Other than a sigh from him, they said nothing. But nothing needed to be said. He hadn't apprehended or killed the boy and anything said now would simply make his rage all the worse. Unlike the rest of the idiots that served him, she understood that.

One long thin arm wound it's way around her body as she rested against his beautifully thin and bony chest. He touched only her and in return, she was the only one he allowed to comfort him. After all, she was his.

~00~oo~00~

With her beloved away from the house, she wept tear after tear in the privacy of their rooms. She knew her beloveds secret to immortality, guessing on her own many years ago, through all the study on dark magic that she did. She was tempted to make a horcrux herself, though she didn't know how to ask him to stabilize her and oversee it.

And so she said nothing of it. It was his secret to keep, and it was a dangerous one as well. The less she knew about it, the better. But what she _did _know was that he had chosen her personal vault as the guardian for his soul…her _personal _vault…and she had failed to keep it safe.

She should have known! She should have taken it out! She should have protected his soul!

She transformed her wand into a whip and brought it down on her legs, cleaving the flesh, blood, and muscle from bone. Slash! Slash! Slash! The blood ran in beautiful rivulets down her legs. She was his servant and she had failed him. Slash! She was his lover and she had failed to keep him safe! She broke her toe with a resounding CRACK! She would endure her punishment even if it took her life! She broke her leg: CRACK! She didn't deserve him. She pointed her wand at her ankle: CRACK! How could he even _look _at filth like-

"BELLA!"

Voldemort was a lord of ice. Surety, calmness, and control were his main characteristics. So it came as no shock that she had never before she heard him shriek the way he did.

"What have you done you stupid foolish girl?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

"PUNISH ME! PUNISH ME MASTER! IT'S MY VAULT! IT'S MY FAULT!" She fell to her knees, welcoming the pain from her slashed legs and broken bones as she held out her wand to him.

He took it and threw it aside, placing her on the bed. "Quiet." She made not a noise and relaxed, welcoming her punishment, welcoming the respite from her guilt. It was her pain that set her free. She closed her eyes and tried not to enjoy the pain. This was _punishment_ not pleasure!

She felt the magic from his wand run over her broken bones, causing more pain at the sights of the breaks, before the pains vanished altogether. She didn't make a sound as he healed her bones. Perhaps he was healing her so he could further torture her? Perhaps the healing in itself _was _the torture? Torture her by taking _away _the pain rather than giving it. That was something she could not enjoy. Her master, her sorcerer, her lover was truly brilliant.

When she opened her eyes, a large bottle of brown liquid had appeared in his hand. He unscrewed the top which was attached to a dropper and sucked up what she was sure was a potion to induce insanity, or bleeding or-

The deeply cut skin over her legs began to knit back together and heal as though it had never been touched to begin with. She should have recognized this was dittany. She wanted to cry from having the pain she so deserved snatched from her.

With her wounds healed, the dark lord looked into her eyes and sighed in frustration. "Would you like to tell me exactly why my fiancé severed her femoral artery?"

She was speechless. She hadn't even known she'd severed anything. She merely reveled in the spray of blood, in the spreading of pain. She hurt herself in so many ways for so long, punishing herself when her parents screamed at her, at each other, taking her sisters punishments, and even punishing herself long after those few times the dark lord would punish her. She would expand upon his spell work and take her pain a step further, often casting crucio on herself all night, not allowing herself to sleep.

And she could not feel she was wrong for it. After all, she had done wrong. And the dark lord himself was the witness to her wrong doings. It was time to receive her punishment.

His eyes narrowed and his voice was as cold as the icy presence amongst her numerous thoughts. "Punishment has already been received and not by you. I punished those responsible. It is not the wizards job to protect their vault. It is the goblins job to make sure nothing is stolen. They failed and _they_ were punished. You forget Bellatrix, it is _I ALONE_ who decides who is rewarded and _I ALONE _who decides who is punished. You are not to be held accountable. As for your behavior-" Hopefully he would punish her that for that? He grit his teeth. "-you shall never again resort to what you have just done. You will wait for me to doll out the pain. If I ever hear, see evidence of such, or see you doing this again, I will punish you. And it won't be with pain, dear Bellatrix. Shall we say no torture of muggles and seeing to the healing of the prisoners for three months?"

Her eyes widened in horror as he smiled playfully...vindictively. She was _horrible _at healing anyone other than him because she didn't have _compassion_ for anyone else and he _knew _it. He knew it wouldn't take her _three_ months, it would take her _six! _And with _that _punishment she would _barely_ get to see _him_, much less have time for anything else. It was the filthiest lowest job amongst them and she knew it. He did too.

"You're-" _evil. _"-amazing my lord. Of course, I shall do as you say." She rose to go and care for the muggles and he laughed behind her, strangely carefree. She smirked as she closed the door behind her but she didn't even get down the hall before he apparated in front of her with an almost mad glint in his eyes.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm done with you yet, Bellatrix? Did I give you _permission _to leave?"

She grinned. "No my lord."

"You must be punished." But his voice was the seductive lilt she had come to know and she swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"Yes my lord."

And she followed him willingly. She was his.

~00~oo~00~

Since the day they had begun, he had never touched her this lightly, this tenderly, or with this much affection. In a way, he was nearly soft with his caresses and lightly pleasured sighs as he barely moved within her.

"Tomorrow, we shall have victory. Tomorrow, you shall have your surprise."

She narrowed her eyes. "_What _surprise?" And than she remembered who she was talking to and her eyes widened. How DARE she show disrespect towards the dark lord! BAD BELLA! She grabbed for her wand, and the dark lord, used to her reactions, flicked it from her before she could get it.

"What have I told you about casting hexes on yourself?"

She squirmed, embarrassed. "Please forgive me my lord. I am not worthy of your-"

"Enough." A cold finger met her lips and she said nothing.

"I will not have my wife torturing herself."

"I deserve it."

"I will break you of this habit if it is the last thing I do."

Of course she would let him heal her, whether it be her mind or her body. She was his.

~00~oo~00~

His lovely was playful in her defense as she fought Molly Weasley, teasing her as she dueled the older woman. She was driven back, back, back, right to the edge where he knew she would flip with a cascade of spells. It was one of her trademark moves.

Only she never got to perform it.

As green light enveloped her body, she fell over, dead.

The shriek that left his body was of a man who had lost his soul and he dueled with a wild ferocity, no longer aware of who he was fighting against, merely trying to get to her body.

Of course, it was too late to resuscitate her an hour and a half later when his rage induced bloodbath was over. If he resuscitated her now after this long, she would be brain dead…but she simply couldn't _leave_ him. Nagini was gone and there was no one else he had found he could trust. She was all she had left.

He knelt down and noticed a weak magical aura centered in the area of her stomach. As the battle raged on, he hovered his hand over the area, shocked by what he had found.

His soon to be wife, now dead, was carrying his child. His child was dying for lack of oxygen, due to his mothers death. But his magic was only weeks old at most. He would never survive if he were to be born.

With much regret, he cut the useless umbilical cord connecting the child to it's dead mother. He leaned down towards Bellatrix's unbreathing form and whispered "I have severed the cord to your life. I will see you soon. Let go son."

The energy singed beneath his palm, bright, beautifully, loving, happy, and _incredibly_ power before it too faded away.

He had been his.

_She_ had been his.

~00~oo~00~

"Expelliarmus!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

But it lacked the usual hatred. His spell of death was as lifeless as he was, cold and broken. His death eaters, those that were still alive, had stopped battling the order. And though e_verything _came down to this, he _knew_ he would fail. Bella, his beloved Bella, was dead. Was there a purpose to staying alive when his heart, his very reason for living, his very reason for _breathing _was gone from this world?

His horcruxes were no longer an issue, all of them being destroyed. His sweet sarcastic friendly affectionate python Nagini would need no caring, as she had passed on as well. Even his own _son_ was dead.

He could not think of a reason to fear death any longer, but he could think of a thousand reasons to walk through that door. Perhaps dying was the only way to live forever? If you were dead, you could enter the world where you would never fade away. Perhaps what he had really wanted all his life was to die.

How strange a thought.

He had never thought he would see the day, but he _was_ ready to die. He was a man that had lost everything and there would be nothing for him but a less significant death if he stayed alive after this. Suicide was the cowards way out, he knew. And he had fought courageously and with a skill that would _still_ be feared for years to come. That was enough, was it not?

And though it would forever be attached to Potters, his name would go down as the most famous most powerful in history. His writings would be burned for the public but the correct installments were already in place to keep his true documents and knowledge safe.

It was all prepared.

He would soon see his beloved sweet Nagini. He would soon meet the son he was proud and excited to know. He would soon see the mother he never knew, the one he thought had never loved him. The one whom he now knew felt the exact opposite. He would meet his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, the very man whom he was most anxious to meet. But there was one who would outshine them all. As soon as he crossed over, he would see Bellatrix on the other side.

He began to back off in power as he very slowly let Potters weak magic overtake his. It would be so easy…but there was a difference between doing what he found right and what he found easy. Dying…seeing her…nothing could be more right. And in the end, it was easy.

And with the image of her face, and a very slight happy smile on his lips, he let the spell hit him. He died for what was his.

~00~oo~00~

His welcoming party in the afterlife was _not_ what he'd expected. Where he had expected Bella's face alone along with his son, his mother, and Slytherin himself, there was instead a large crowd. And they were not calling for his death. They were…_happy_ to see him! The long lines of Blacks, both known and not, bowed before him and shook his hands, purebloods he knew and didn't know flocked to greet him and meet him. After making his way through the crowd, he found his mother near the train, tears shining in her beautiful brown eyes. They were almost the most beautiful he'd ever seen, second only to one.

"Where is my wife?"

"I am here."

On her hip she carried a child. A beautiful boy with healthy, glowing skin, brown eyes, and black curly hair. "I was pregnant with our child when I died. I was going to tell you."

"I know. I severed his life so there would be no more pain. Can he grow here?"

"Everything grows here. Let me show you."

She held out her unoccupied hand and he took it as they boarded the train. As he chose what had been his favorite compartment on his way to Hogwarts, he noticed the tint of his skin and his reflection in the window.

"I have not changed or retained my old looks."

"Some scars go too deep."

Slytherin stood there with his arms clasped behind his back, gazing at him in a calculating pensive manner. His mother was fretting over their newborn child and playing with him while Bellatrix's head rested on his shoulder.

"Where will we go?"

"To wherever it is that you want to go. Everything that is available there is available here. And time passes as though it were nothing."

"I do not believe in heaven."

"Nor do I. And we were correct. There is no heaven or hell. There is only what you make of your life on earth. I admit to being quite…anxious over your coming. Had you not taken Bellatrix as your lover, you would have ended at a crossroad, unable to cross over."

"So she has healed my soul than."

"She has. You are now as you never were. She is a remarkable young woman this one. A fiery spirit to your icy temperament. She attempted to hex me when I touched her shoulder to ask her name."

"Indeed. My Bella doesn't like to be touched without prior permission." He pulled her closer, away from his ancestor. Death had not changed that he was possessively jealous by nature. Bellatrix smirked and straightened haughtily.

"As is the case with any appropriately raised pureblood woman."

He barely refrained from rolling his eyes…_barely. _He was pleased though that he had retained his snake-like charm and he held his child in his arms while Bellatrix argued with Slytherin over some concept or other. But he couldn't bring himself to pay attention because now, here _finally_ he was at peace. There would be no more separation, no more pain, no more death.

For now and for forever, he was hers. And as she always had been, even on earth, she always had been, and always would be, his.

A/N: This was originally a story for the Quidditch Fanfiction Competition but I just fell so in love with it that I had to complete it. I couldn't leave it where it was. It felt too unfinished. I hope you enjoyed it. :)


End file.
